


Vacation

by Ainyan42



Series: Kal'istae, Imperial Ghost [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22528816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ainyan42/pseuds/Ainyan42
Summary: After the events of Ziost, ex-Imperial Agent Kal'istae needs some downtime before she joins Darth Marr in their hunt for the resurrected Emperor. She's not the only one looking to get away for a while.
Relationships: Female Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine/Theron Shan
Series: Kal'istae, Imperial Ghost [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620928
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Vacation

“Commander, we need to begin our search.” Kal’istae turned, studying the tall, looming figure who had come up behind her.

“And we will, Lord Marr - when I’ve had a chance to sleep.” She could see the irritation with her response ripple through his bulky frame and her chin rose fractionally as her red eyes glittered stubbornly. “With all due respect, my lord, over the past several weeks I have been shot, stabbed, burned, and electrocuted. I have climbed through service shafts, jumped down over twelve meters at one go, fought mad Jedi and Sith, and watched an entire planet turned to dust before my eyes. I am going to sleep, I am going to recover, and then you will have every possible particle of my attention.”

Darth Marr stared down at the diminutive chiss, arms folded beneath her breasts, jaw jutting forward pugnaciously. He wanted to object - but he could see the truth in the pale periwinkle translucency of her normally sapphire skin, of the violet shadows that made her scarlet eyes stand out in stark relief. “Very well, Commander,” the Dark Lord rumbled finally. “Take the time you need, then meet with me on Dromund Kaas so we can plot our next move. We must find where the Emperor has fled, and we must bolster our defenses before the Republic can make its move. And I will need you - and your considerable talents - with me.”

Kal’istae’s lips tightened slightly, but she inclined her head all the same. “I told you that I would be at your side, my Lord, and I will.”

Marr only nodded, but it was enough for her. With another bow - more a nod than anything else - the chiss turned on heel and strode off before the Sith could change his mind. She slipped through the crowded halls of Vaiken Spacedock, swiftly lost to sight, although the Dark Lord continued to follow her shining presence with the Force until it faded from his senses. “She is an intriguing asset, my Lord,” said a stocky blonde as she stepped up to his side.

Marr glanced down at his Intelligence chief, studying the pale yellow eyes she turned up to him. “I would rather leash her to us, but she is too valuable to alienate. Still, she had best hope that her value does not diminish.”

Lana Beniko gave a short, sharp bark of a laugh. “I think you’ll find, Lord Marr, that Commander Kal’istae’s value will only increase in the dark times to come.”

Marr turned his head again, listening as one of his com officers reported the departure of the ex-agent’s X-70b Phantom from the spacedock. “I am afraid, Lana Beniko, you may find your words too close to prophecy for my liking, or yours.”

“Or hers,” Beniko added softly, her pale gold eyes tight with worry as she stared off into the distant, cold stars where they shone beyond the spacedock.

* * *

“We did not know you had an apartment on Nar Shaddaa.” Kal’Istae paused in packing her carrysack, glancing over her shoulder into Vector’s limitless black eyes. 

“For many reasons, it’s not really something I noise about,” the ex-Cipher agent pointed out to her one-time lover as she folded up a soft sweater and stuffed it in her duffle. “I keep it for those times I just need some time to myself.”

Vector looked dubious, moving up to skim his hand down her back. “We do not understand wanting to be alone, but we understand that this is something you need.” The Chiss glanced back into his worried face and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him gently.

“Vector, you’re so sweet.” The words did not evoke a smile from him; he knew that was part of the reason she’d refused his offer of marriage and ended their relationship, despite his certain knowledge that she cared for him. She could see the tightness at the corner of his eyes and reached up to brush her hand over his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, reaching up to take her hand and bring it to his lips. “We have always understood, and we treasure what we have of you. Your place in our song is secure, as is our place in yours.”

Kal’istae did not answer in words, but instead leaned in and kissed him again, losing herself, ever so briefly, in the softness of his touch, the gentleness of his lips. Then, with a sigh, she pulled away, rubbing her thumb over the line of his cheekbone. “Take care of the ship and crew, Vector,” she murmured. “I won’t be gone long.”

She did not tell him she loved him. He did not have the words to tell her, and knew she would not want to hear them. He could hear the new chord in her song, even if she could not, and knew that her affection for him had shifted when someone new had come into her life - even if she, herself, had not yet come to realize it.

* * *

Theron Shan walked behind his mother as they made their way through the corridors of the Republic Frigate carrying them from the dead planet of Ziost back to the center of galactic civilization - Coruscant. There were a million other places he’d rather be, but when the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order tells you to follow… you follow. Even if you’re her son. Especially if you’re her son. He wasn’t familiar enough with this particular frigate to know exactly where they were headed, although he was almost certain the brig was in the opposite direction.

His curiosity only increased as they entered one of the shuttle bays. “Grandmaster…” Satele raised one hand, hushing him, and lead him around the outside of the bay towards a shuttle being prepped. Then she turned to face him.

“I think it’s best you lie low for a while, Theron.” Her pale blue eyes were tight at the corners as she stared up at him, hands folded together at her waist. “Saresh will need someone to blame for this debacle, and if you are in her line of sight, she will come for you. This shuttle will take you anywhere you need to go - it belongs to the Order, so no one will question you.”

It was rare that Theron found himself without a quick word or quip, but all he could do was stare down at the woman who’d borne him, in direct defiance of the Order she now lead, and left him to her own master to raise. She waited patiently - at least to outward eyes. Theron didn’t know his mother well, but he could recognize the signs of her impatience. It was one thing they shared. “I - uh… thank you.”

Satele sighed, folding her hands at her waist as she gazed up at her wayward son. “I know we have never been on the best of terms, Theron, and I can’t apologize for the choices I felt I needed to make. But I will not allow you to be drawn into a witch hunt when the only mistake you made was in not having enough information. I wouldn’t allow it to happen to anyone - but most especially not to you. I’m sure you can find somewhere to go, and you’ll know exactly when it’s safe to resurface.”

Involuntarily, a name tickled the tip of Theron’s tongue, and he barely swallowed it before it tumbled from his lips. He knew his face showed nothing, but the Grandmaster’s gaze narrowed anyway as she scented the emotions that boiled up at that simple thought. “You must be joking,” she said incredulously.

“You have nothing to worry about, Grand Master. I know my duty.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded flat, and he saw concern flood the Jedi’s expression - a brief flash - before she regained control of her emotions.

“Yes,” she sighed, “I suppose we all know about duty. Hopefully, the Supreme Chancellor will find something new to hold her attention and you’ll be able to return to us before you - before we suffer too greatly for being without your skills.”

Theron reached out, surprising himself and his mother by touching her shoulder. “Thank you, Master Satele,” he said softly. “I promise, I am always a son of the Republic.”

“I would expect no less from _my_ son,” Satele said softly, before bowing to the spy and walking quickly from the hangar. Theron watched her go for a long moment, then slipped up the ramp to the shuttle. It was the work of moments to acclimate himself to the controls and head out into space; once there, he ducked into the sensor shadow of the fleet passing above him and began the slow, tedious work of finding a place to go with that name.

_Where are you, Kal’istae?_

* * *

It wasn’t something she could ever explain; some said it was a latent Force-sensitivity, others said it was a result of her alien nature. Kal’istae knew it was neither - the air simply behaved differently depending on who was disturbing it. That was how she knew, three days into her well-deserved vacation, that she was not alone as she let herself into her hidden apartment in one of Nar Shaddaa’s well-to-do sectors. There was nothing obviously out of place; nothing moved, nothing shifted, no sign of prints or smudges. But the breath of the apartment had a slight hitch, the heartbeat just a bit off-kilter - just enough to warn her.

She eased the pistol out of its holster at her hip, her other hand taking hold of the handle of her vibroblade as she activated her stealth field. With silent steps, she ghosted down the hallway, past the darkened kitchen, into the dimly lit living room.

He stood, staring at the shelf that contained those tiny pieces of _her_ that she kept, little bits of her life too precious to discard, too dangerous to leave somewhere they might be easily found. Her apartment was so far off the grid that officially, it didn’t exist. It’s entrance had been carefully concealed, and the plans for the building showed a much different use for this space than actually existed. So the question begged, and she voiced it, even as she held her pistol steady before her. “Theron Shan, how in the hell did you find me?”

He didn’t jump, he didn’t start. She felt no surprise that the Republic spy knew she was there, even encased in her stealth field - they probably looked askance at him, too, and spoke of his powerful Jedi ancestors. She knew, as he did, that it was simply what made them _agents_. He turned, and she cancelled the field, leaving them facing each other with the pistol between them. “If I said magic, would you believe me? No? A little hard work, a lot of luck, and a good chunk of my savings.”

Kal’istae studied him - her friend? enemy? - for a long moment, then lowered her pistol, securing it back in her holster. Her vibroknife was second, sliding into the sheath at her back. He didn’t even twitch, his hazel eyes - more green than gold - watching her with an intensity that unnerved her as nothing else had for a long time. “Why?”

“Because I needed to. Because you’ve gotten inside of me, and I had to know… I had to know.” He crossed the tiny room to her, reaching out to cup her face in his slim, calloused hands. “Who are you, Kal’istae, that I have spent the past several days with your name crowding my mind?”

“I am no one,” she whispered. “I am a ghost in the machine.” Theron hesitated, then leaned in, pressing his mouth against hers. Her breath beat against his lips an instant before the distance collapsed, then caught in her throat. It burned in her lungs as she leaned into the kiss, reaching up to cover his hands with her own. It gasped out, a soft sigh, when he pulled back, leaving bare centimeters between between them.

“You’re one hell of a solid ghost.” His voice was just a bit shaky as he gazed down at her, searching those pupiless red eyes for any hint of her feelings. His fingers traced tiny patterns against her cheeks as he eased back a little more, before he dropped his hands away, shoving them into his pocket to keep from touching her any more. 

Unnerved, Kal’istae rubbed her hands together and spun away, treading silently across the rugs set upon the wooden floor of the apartment. “Theron, I thought we agreed this was over.”

“I know.” She could hear the reluctance in his voice, could feel it’s echo in the frustrated cadence of her rebellious heart. “I know. I just - I had to get away from the Republic for a little bit. Saresh is… being unpleasant. And I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. I couldn’t think of anywhere else. Anyone else.”

His words were an uncanny echo of her own thoughts, the same ones that had sent her fleeing to Nar Shaddaa rather than risk any of her closest companions ( _Vector_ , whispered her pricked conscious) learning of her fascination ( _infatuation_ , teased her heart) with the Republic’s most dangerous spy.

 _What would Darth Marr do if he knew_? The question froze the blood in her veins.

“Theron, you can’t be here. I don’t want you here.” She couldn’t look at him. She was - had been - a Cipher Agent. Her life revolved around lies. She didn’t even know what was true half the time any more when she spoke. And she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Theron would never believe her if he could see her face.

She felt the air around her sigh as he came up behind her. “Don’t do this.” Her eyes slid closed, and it was all she could do to resist the heat of him at her back. “Kal’istae.” His voice was hypnotic. “Tell me to my face.”

“Theron,” she whispered. “Please.” His hands were on her shoulders, the pressure gentle but inexorable. She knew a thousand ways to break his grasp - to make her point.

She allowed herself to be turned, eyes opening as she gazed up into his eyes. “Give it a chance.”

“I don’t want you hurt.”

He slid his hands from her shoulders to cup her face, thumbs tracing her cheekbones gently. “That’s my lookout.”

Kal’istae was lost, reaching up to cover the hands on her face. “He’ll kill you,” she whispered. “He’ll torture you. He’ll make an example of you. Not just for your sake, not just for the Republic, but for your _mother_. For _me_. To teach me, to bend me. He _will_ break me with it. I can’t, I won’t - Theron, please.”

Theron lowered his mouth until it hovered above hers, his hazel eyes fierce. “I said it once before. I stare death in the face every day. At least this time it would be worth it.”

“How do you know?” she whispered. But she knew. And he knew. And as his mouth took hers again, she was lost: in his kiss, in his hands, in his heart.

* * *

She lay on her side, gazing in the mirror of her vanity. Behind her, the steady heat of Theron’s body warmed her back. She traced her hand across the arm thrown casually around her waist, studying the contrast between his pale skin and her sapphire blue. She felt his breath warm between her shoulder blades and fought the unfamiliar urge to turn and cuddle against him. Even during her time with Vector, she had rarely stayed in bed with the Joiner once her blood had slowed. Now, she found herself losing the battle against sloth, all over a pair of hazel eyes, ten clever fingers, and one silver, wicked tongue.

Never mind the man they were attached to. _Or that mind!_

She moved to slip out and his arm tightened, tugging her back into the bed. When she fell back into the tangled nest of sheets, he levered himself up and over her, nuzzling at her throat. “Kal’istae,” he murmured, teeth scraping against her jaw. It sent a thrill up her spine and he murmured her name again as he felt her body quake beneath his. 

“Kali.” His eyes, blurred with the pleasure she felt stirring other parts of his body, sharpened and focused on hers. “My core name is Kali.”

“Kali,” he repeated huskily, as he nudged her thighs apart with his knee, covering her mouth with his even as he slipped inside of her. She gasped against his mouth, legs closing over his hips, spine arching to meet his. This time was much slower, gentler, than their initial hurried coupling, and she found it almost unbearably intimate as his agate eyes gazed down into hers while he slid in and out of her body.

He kept the rhythm steady and slow, his gaze as inexorable as the sensations building deep in her body, flooding through her veins. She heard herself whimper, felt herself bow beneath him. He fixed his mouth on hers, drinking her moans as his pace quickened, strengthened, then abruptly faltered as he fell after her, his cries echoing hers.

Afterwards, he lay half-atop her, his breathing labored, skin sticky with the sweat of their exertions. She traced light patterns across his bare skin, fingernails stuttering over the scars that spoke of a lifetime of danger. She knew many such trophies decorated her own body, knew intimately where each was as Theron had traced them with his fingertips shortly after the first time they had made love.

_No. Don’t think like that. Joined. Safer._

Theron eventually slid off - not far, however, his arm and leg remaining firmly entangled around hers, as if he didn’t trust her not to try and escape. She turned her head so that she faced him - her on her back, him on his stomach, eyes clear as they met across so short a distance. “No regrets, Kali.”

“Never, Theron. But this can’t continue.”

His hand stroked along her stomach, tracing the lines of her ribs beneath the soft sapphire skin. “Maybe. Maybe not. But we have some time. Kali,” he sighed - more frustrated than content - and rolled over on his side, cupping her hip to draw her flush against him, “why are you so resistant?”

She stared up at the ceiling, red eyes unblinking, before shifting her gaze to his. “What I don’t understand is why you’re not, Theron Shan.” She emphasized his last name and he winced slightly. “You are a loyal agent of the Republic, and I - I am the Imperial Ghost. We are completely incompatible.”

“You’re going to have to wait a bit before I prove just how compatible we can be,” came the not entirely unexpected quip, and Kal’istae sneered elegantly at him. “This doesn’t have to be about sides. About governments. About factions. It’s two mature, independent adults engaging in…” He trailed off, groping for the words.

Kal’istae eyed him, amused despite herself. “A torrid affair?” At his offended expression, she gave a short bark of laughter. “A no-strings spate of time before we go our separate ways, then?”

“Whatever makes you feel better about it,” Theron replied, nuzzling against her ear. “As long as you don’t kick me out of here.”

She gave a breathless laugh, giving in and rolling to wrap her arms around him. His fingers skimmed up her back as he tangled his legs with hers, his eyes laughing from the brief distance between them. “You are impossible, Theron Shan.”

“See? Told you we were compatible.”

* * *

It was some time later when the pair finally exited the bedroom. Clad in a filmy red robe and nothing else, Kal’istae picked her way through the living room while Theron sauntered along behind, tucked into a pair of loose pants. As she continued into the kitchen, he paused once more in front of her shelf of personal memories, studying them with sharp eyes.

He could hear her moving around - making caf, she’d said, and he was inclined to leave her to it. He was curious at this display of memento - curious about what it would tell him about this intriguing, frustrating woman who preoccupied his mind so neatly. Mostly occupying one shelf, it seemed to be an array of objects, each one with a small holodisc 

The first was a broken gem of some sort - picking it up, he studied the brilliant rainbow shine embedded within the crystal’s heart. He set it down gently, then pushed the button on the holodisc. Nothing happened. Curious, he touched the next; it too remained dormant. “Keyed to my bioscan.” He turned, taking the mug of caf offered by the chiss. She watched him quietly, red eyes gleaming over the rim of her own mug as she sipped at the steaming drink. 

Moving to his side, she reached out and touched the button. Immediately, a holo of a slim human male sprung up. His hair was slicked back, his eyes the black of a starless sky - completely, lacking white, iris, or pupil. A curious weapon rode on his back, a long staff made of some substance Theron did not immediately recognize. “Vector.” Kali’s voice was soft, almost wistful. “One of my people - companions. He gave me that gem - the whole thing - when he proposed to me. When I told him why I couldn’t consider marriage, he split the gem and insisted I take half, to remember that the other halves will always be waiting for us.”

“That is… sweet.” Theron’s tone was just a touch dubious, and Kal’istae chuckled, toggling off the holo and letting her fingers drift over the gem before pulling her hand away.

“He is very sweet. Very strong. An amazing man, an amazing diplomat. I wish… I wish it were possible, sometimes.” Her red eyes peered thoughtfully at Theron. “But you and I both know that in our line of work, it takes a very, very particular person to survive an attachment. I adore Vector, but he would only be a liability.”

Theron exhaled softly. “You’re lucky. Usually I end up with tears and things thrown at my head when I make it clear that I’m not free to pursue a relationship.”

Kali smiled, reaching up to brush her knuckles over his cheek. “No fear, my dear. I know the score.” 

Theron caught her hand, drawing it to his lips, but said nothing. The agent watched the spy, refusing to show how the intensity of his gaze - pale green at the moment - unnerved her. Instead, she smiled at him, then turned casually to the next display. This one, the badge of the Chiss Ascendancy’s secret police. Tugging her hand free, she pushed the button: this one displayed an older Chiss male, tall and slim and aristocratic. “My father. He’s a commandant in the Csilla secret police. I haven’t seen or talked to him since I joined Imperial Intelligence - safer that way, but every now and then he’ll send me an encrypted message; just to remind me he’s out there, thinking of me.”

“Why Intelligence? Why not stay on Csilla?”

Kali drew a deep breath in through her nose, placing her mug aside as she rubbed her hands together. “I _was_ in the secret police. That’s my badge. I served with my father. Then the Empire came, told me that I would join Intelligence; some kind of new initiative. They were impressed with my work, wanted me to use my skills for them. Made it clear that joining Intelligence was in my family’s - in the Ascendency’s - best interests.”

Theron slid his arm around her waist, letting his hip bump lightly against her own. “They _blackmailed_ you, Kali? And still you remain?”

“There are trillions of people in the Empire who are not responsible for the machinations at the top. Billions in the Ascendency.” She lifted her gaze, red eyes impossibly sad. “I would do anything to keep them safe. You understand.” It was a statement of fact.

Reluctantly, Theron nodded. “I do.”

She leaned up, brushing her lips over his jaw, then nudged him towards the next display. This one, a small Imperial crest. When she activated the holo, it played a small clip of the day she graduated from the Imperial Academy. The fourth was similar in design, vastly different in nature - the memento was a scorched data chip, clearly unusable, and the clip that played was only a computerized voice, confirming that there was no record of a Cipher Nine found in any Imperial databanks. Theron drew in a sharp breath.

The fifth was an ornate scroll, and Kal’istae hesitated over it for a long moment before lifting it and unrolling it, allowing the spy to read it. He studied it for a short moment before admitting, “I can’t read Cheunh.”

Kal’istae stared at him for a moment. “How did you know that it’s Cheunh? Agent Shan, you never fail to impress me.” Resting her cheek against his shoulder, she looked over the scroll. “In short, it is an official proclamation of my being made a merit adoptive of House Miurani for service performed to its Aristocra on Hoth. Not an uncommon thing - any chiss serving the military is thus adopted for the length of their service. But I did not qualify, until the Aristocra saw fit to reward me.”

Theron re-rolled the scroll and placed it carefully down, then waited patiently. As Kali continued to stare at the holodisc, he raised one eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

“I - no.” Kal’istae straightened up, reaching out with one slim finger to depress the button. A holo sprang up - a young, dignified Chiss male in a white uniform, his scarlet eyes alight as he stared back.

“ _This is Aristocra Saganu. I never got the chance to see you off of Hoth. Understandable - things were… hectic. But you represent the future of the Chiss Ascendancy, and that will not go unrecognized. I pronounce you merit adoptive of House Miurani. My house._ ”

The recording paused, then continued, and Theron understood her initial hesitation.

“ _In another age, Miurani’kal’istae, I would have kept you by my side. Spent our days and nights together. Now, this is my only gift to you. Fight well, my Red Flame. Saganu out._ ”

“Huh.” 

Kal’istae once more rested her cheek against his bare shoulder, still gazing wistfully at the holo as it froze on Saganu. Finally, she sighed, reaching out to shut it off. “I haven’t heard from him since. Of course, after Hoth, events accelerated out of control, so it’s not as if I have been easy to find. So, in the end, it’s nothing.”

Theron untucked his arm from hers, then drew her around until she was nestled against his chest, his arms crossed over her slim waist. “You obviously impressed him in many ways. An Aristocra is no mere military commander - they have power within their House.”

Kal’istae sighed in his arms, crossing hers over his and tucking her head in the hollow of his throat. “Yes, and House Miurani is not an inconsiderable influence within the Ascendancy. Having his regard, however briefly, was… special.”

“He means something to you.” Try as she might, she could detect nothing but curiosity in his voice, and wondered at her fickle heart’s twinge.

Kal’istae sighed again. “It was one kiss. One moment. It shouldn’t have meant anything at all.”

Theron pressed his lips into her hair. “Sometimes,” he murmured, “that’s all it takes.”

“I - know.” And she pushed the sixth holo, the only one without a memento. Theron tensed in surprise as his own slim frame sprang up - a static holo of him, captured during one of their many conversations. He thought he caught hints of Rishi in the background. 

Theron stared at his own face, glanced down to see Kali studying the holo with an unreadable expression. He pressed his cheek against her hair and she closed her eyes, snuggling back into his embrace. “Don’t think about it,” she whispered - to herself, to him. “Just… live for now. That’s all we can do. That’s all I want to do. With you, Theron.”

He turned her in his arms, walking backwards with her until he fell onto her couch, dragging her down on top of him. She shrieked with laughter, straddling him and grinning down, her midnight blue hair untidily framing her face, her red eyes aglow with delight. The filmy robe only served to accentuate the exotic beauty of the slim, blue-skinned body beneath it, and Theron delighted in watching the fabric shade his skin red as he ran his hands across her ribs and stomach, up to cup her breasts. Her spined bowed backwards as he reared up, one arm latching around her waist to hold her steady as his hand parted her robe, baring her skin, and his mouth fastened on her.

She tasted of exotic spices, seasoned by hints of salt from their earlier exertions. He wanted to devour her, piece by piece, and it was only through sheer force of will that he was able to contain himself to teasing nibbles and licks, fingertips tracing over her skin. He ignored her demands, captured and chained her hands in his when she sought to goad him into more direct action. Using his mouth, he ravaged her body, from her mouth to her breasts to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She squirmed, she pleaded, and when he finally capitulated and allowed her to guide him inside of her body, it was a short fall to a pleasure that sated them both.

* * *

It was a short three days - and the longest three days of their lives. Most of the time was spent within the apartment - but there was the occasional jaunt out into Nar Shaddaa. A visit to a Zabraki restaurant that Theron favored; a quick late-night theater performance; window shopping on the Promenade during which a street-vendor cajoled Theron into buying a single shimmerose for “his lady”, despite her laughing protests - which later served as prop for another night of pleasure shared.

It couldn’t last. They knew it, and yet never spoke of their inevitable parting. For Kal’istae, Theron’s unceasing attention and affection loosened bands around her heart she’d rarely acknowledged existed. In those rare moments of silence - that time of waking as she lay cradled in his embrace, his sleeping body tucked possessively about her own - her heart broke for the ending it knew could not be staved off.

And in those brief moments when she slept, limbs intertwined with his, her breath warm against his breast, Theron stored every memory of her face, her body, her touch in his cybernetics, tucking them carefully behind a thousand firewalls to prevent anything - anyone - from accessing them. Anyone but him. She had her mementos. He had his. If he could only find a way to bring her over…

But he knew better. And though his heart wept, his mind remained clear, committing every last minute to memory.

And on the seventh day, Marr called.

* * *

She was in the bedroom. He was in the kitchen. When the holocom chimed, she swiftly rose, drawing her robe around herself as she kicked Theron’s off of the bed, arranging the tousled bedding so that it looked as if she had slept alone. The door slid shut at her touch and she scanned the room even as the chime sounded again, as impatient as the man she knew had triggered it. Nothing showed that she was anything but alone, and she hoped Theron would respect the closed door. She touched the com, and Marr’s hologram sprung up, the Dark Lord studying her impassively. “Lord Marr.”

“Commander. You have had your week. You are looking… better.” She knew behind his mask his gaze was sweeping over her, but there was nothing personal in the look. If the Dark Lord of the Council could be tempted by flesh, it would not be hers, appealingly packaged as it may be. “I require you at my side. Although I have no official word yet of where the Emperor has fled to, Minister Beniko has found some leads that you would be best suited to follow.”

Kal’istae inclined her head obediently to the Sith - although she was careful to keep the inclination shallow enough that he did not mistake obedience for obsequience. His soft grunt told her that he’d gotten the message. “I will be on Dromund Kaas in a few days though. I thank you,” she added, “for your forbearance. I have managed to adequately restore my reserves, and should have no issues… plying my trade… for the good of the Empire.”

Darth Marr was silent for a moment, then inclined his head in acknowledgement. “It will be good to work with you again, Commander,” was all he said, before the holo blanked out. Kal’istae let out a long breath and swept her hair back into a messy tail, then slid open the door and moved out into the apartment.

Just as she knew when someone else was present, so too did she know when she was alone. She could feel it in the air - the breath, the heartbeat of the apartment was different than it had been for the past week - stale and silent and diminished. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the wall and stared out into the empty living room, cursing silently. Everything had been left exactly as it had started. Nothing different, nothing to show he had ever been there. 

Except his holodisc. It was still there, but now a small disk-shaped object rested before it. Silently, she picked her way to the shelf, reaching out to pick up the large, worn coin. Tarnished with age, smoothed by countless fingers, she could barely make out the seal of the Jedi Order, read the name of the Jedi for whom the medallion of Mastery had been forged.

 _Bastila Shan_.

She gripped the medallion in her hand, knowing exactly what it was - and what it meant that he had left it there, among her mementos. Swallowing, she pressed the button on his holo.

“Hey, it’s me. I know you’re probably pissed that I slipped out without a goodbye. I’m sorry.” Even in holo, his hazel eyes showed an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. “I heard - I figured it was for the best. Clean break.” He gave a soft, mocking laugh. “Right. Look. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I know one thing. What we have? You and me? It’s something good. Don’t forget me. Someday, everything will fall into place.” He paused. “I’ll miss you. I already do. Miss me, Kali.” The holo froze, lingering on him as he gazed into the camera, arms crossed over his chest, then faded from sight.

“I already do,” she echoed softly, rubbing the medallion between her fingers before laying it reverently before his now silent holo.

Within the hour, the apartment was silent once more, filled only with the ghosts of laughter and lovemaking and the entirety of Kal’istae’s history, lining a single shelf.


End file.
